


Cataclysm | Ymir x F!Reader

by krstein



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Apocalypse, F/F, Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28553979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krstein/pseuds/krstein
Summary: The world is against you... the only goal is to survive. Along with five others, you have to somehow get across the sea and away from an island infested with the undead. The objective seems nearly impossible, but a certain other girl walks through the hell by your side, and helps you hold on to hope... or at least, make your last week on earth as memorable as possible.Ymir x female!Reader[apocalyptic AU]
Relationships: Jean Kirstein & Connie Springer, Jean Kirstein & Reader, Jean Kirstein & Ymir, Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Marco Bott & Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott & Reader, Marco Bott & Ymir, Sasha Blouse & Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse & Reader, Ymir (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123





	1. I: Copper-Haired with a Gun

**Author's Note:**

> if this fic seems familiar, it is because i also have it up on my Wattpad, however I wanted to test the waters of AO3 out.
> 
> just some warnings, this fanfic will contain mature/triggering subject matter, such as:
> 
> — blood/gore  
> — nsfw scenes  
> — strong language  
> — mentions of weapons (ex. guns)

It's the year 2018, and an extremely contagious, lethal disease has broken out on the continent of Paradis, an independent island off the coast of the continent of Marley. Two weeks ago, a mutation of the disease, known as Mews, escaped from solitary confinement and inevitably infected the entire population of the island in under forty-eight hours.

Minus one person, that was you. A teenage girl who was awoken from her slumber by cold, slimy hands around her neck, eyes met with what looked like the devil themself; a humanoid with skin tinted deep blue, rotting on the outside, almost like a zombie, however far worse than you could've imagined a zombie would look like. It was a miracle that you were able to escape your Mews-infested home without getting infected, but unfortunately the only thing you could salvage was a cheese knife.

You were running on rain water and zero food for about a week, muddy and dirty from living outside in the middle of an apocalypse. The same clothes had been glued to your body since you fled your home, same undergarments, same uncombed hair - truly a disaster. But looking presentable was the least of your problems.

Clearly you were somehow immune to the Mews disease, but not immune from what the Mews could do to you; kill you. You had already fought about five to seven Mews, even killed less than half with your pitiful cheese knife that was becoming duller by the minute. The only thought you had was survival, and you didn't care how, but you needed to flee Paradis.

Well, actually... what you needed was a grocery store.

Sure, you had found grocery stores. Countless. But they were all infested by the zombie-like Mews, and it was one of you and fifty of them. So you figured it would be best to avoid Costco for the time being. Furthermore, you had your fingers crossed that you'd find at least one other human being in the midst of your search for food.

At that moment, you were running from three Mews who had found you, and were clearly full of bloodlust and on a mission to execute you. You turned at a corner and took shelter under what looked like an old-fashioned theatre building, hiding behind the ticket sales booth. You panted as you caught your breath, even coughed because of how dry your throat was, despite the momentary rainfall. You broke into a cold sweat, shivering from being drenched but boiling because it felt like you had run a fifty-kilometre sprint. But just when you thought you were in the clear, you heard the high-pitched growl of a Mew, and slowly cocked your head over your shoulder to make eye contact with the living dead.

The noise of a gun cocking startled you, followed by the sound of three booming gunshots, all bullets pummeled into the forehead of the now-deceased Mew.

"Hey!" A masculine voice shouted.

You hastily looked around for the voice, not sure if you were hallucinating or hearing a real call. To your delight, there was a boy around your age poking his head out of a window on the third floor, above the ticket booth. A flimsy rope was dropped from the window.

"Get up here, fast!" he instructed.

Following his orders, you took the rope and used the brick wall of the building to climb vertically up to the window, where you were then greeted with strong arms gripping your biceps, pulling you inside. He threw you to the ground and swiftly brought the rope back in, giving a final scan of the road outside before closing the window and blinds. He then put a wooden board up against the window before turning back to you.

"How long have you been out there?" he asked.

"More than a week..." you heaved, coughing once again.

You gave the male a good look once you were relaxed. His hair was two-toned, copper, and he had slim, hazel eyes. He was also quite tall, much taller than you. He dropped the pistol he held on the bed next to you, and held a hand out.

"I'm Jean," he introduced himself.

"[Y/N]..." you replied as you took his hand. He hoisted you up to your feet and eyed you up and down.

"You've been through a lot, clearly," he chuckled. "Follow me. I'll introduce you to the others."

You couldn't believe your ears, and let your chapped, dehydrated lips curve into a smile. "There's other people?"

"Yes. And we'll need to give you a debriefing too,"

Jean led you out of the dark bedroom and into a living area, which seemed to be one of two. The apartment was amazingly large for an old downtown condo, and the ceilings were surprisingly high. In the room you stood in, there was a bunk bed, a couch, closet and a desk. A woman seemed to be dozing off on the lower bunk.

"That is Ymir," Jean began. "We found her the same way we found you, but she actually came with another girl. Unfortunately she was infected and became really hostile so we had to kill her. Ymir's been down in the dumps about it, we think it was her girlfriend."

Girlfriend? you repeated in thought.

Jean continued further down the corridor, and you entered another living area, which consisted of two couches, a flat-screen television and another boarded window. Two people sat on the couch, controllers in hand and eyes glued to the TV screen ahead.

"That's Sasha and Connie. They were school friends so they had each other for the first two days before meeting us. I don't think they encountered any Mews though, so we're unsure whether they're immune or not. Also, they've been playing Super Smash Bros for the past thousand hours. It's best not to bother them right now..."

"You guys have electricity?" you asked.

Jean laughed. "We're close to a hospital, so the electricity around here is pretty reliable. Plus, when the power does go out - which it will in a matter of time - we discovered this building has a generator. So we should be okay for at least the next week."

Hearing that all the utilities within the apartment were still viable gave you an ounce of hope. Perhaps you could live here until someone came to get you... if that were to happen.

Next, Jean brought you back near the room you had exited, except before turning left to enter the bedroom, there was a kitchen/dining area. The dining area was more-so just a kitchen island with barstools - the kitchen was very compact and on the smaller side. On the far left of the kitchen there was a slim staircase, which made its way up to a loft from what you could tell. Inside the kitchen there was a tall, dark-haired boy with freckles reaching into the fridge.

"And finally, that's Marco," Jean stated. The said Marco looked up at you after taking a bottle of water out of the fridge and jumped back after making eye contact with you, but soon after, shot you an uneasy grin.

"Hey," he greeted shakily, making his way to the kitchen island, where he rested his elbows. He gave Jean a long stare and whispered, "Jean, did you check her for signs of infection?"

"She's fine, Marco," Jean rolled his eyes.

You giggled, and put the cheese knife you held down on the countertop. Jean and Marco noticed the dried blood and flesh residue on the knife, and were left in shock.

"You said you were out there for more than a week?" Jean reiterated. You nodded in response.

"Did you fight the Mews?" Marco asked, adding on to Jean.

"Yeah, a few," you sighed.

The two boys exchanged optimistic looks, then turned their attention back to you.

Jean smiled. "So that means you've come into contact with them and you're still fine?"

Another nod in response.

"Thank goodness!" Marco gasped with relief. "You're immune! Jean, Ymir and I are also immune, but we're still trying to figure out how. Connie and Sasha didn't come into contact with any Mews though, so we aren't sure about them."

You were surprised to hear that others also had some form of immunity, but all you could think about was the bottle of water that Marco held in his hand. If your mouth could water, it would have minutes ago. Marco noticed the staring, and offered you the drink.

"Oh, I guess you haven't had anything to eat or drink in a while," he stated, sliding you the unopened bottle. Without a second's hesitation, you threw the cap off and almost swallowed the entire bottle whole, finishing the contents in under thirty seconds.

You caught your breath. "Do you guys have any food?"

"Only instant ramen. We finished everything that was down in the theatre in the first week. Most of the food wasn't in good shape because of the Mews," Jean explained. Marco took out a package of the instant ramen and began preparing it for you. Jean continued. "We haven't had the chance to check any of the grocery stores either. Ymir and Historia said they tried; but they were all infested."

"Historia?" you muttered.

"Ymir's girlfriend," Marco replied, his face turning sorrowful. "She got infected after we raided the nearby hospital for medical stuff. A day later we had to kill her,"

You gasped, "That fast?"

"Unfortunately," Jean muttered. Both of the boys seemed uncomfortable talking about what happened with this Historia girl, so you brushed it off. Marco returned to the island with a cup of steaming noodles, and placed it in front of you with a fork. Eager to eat, you began gobbling it down, sadly burning your tongue in the process. However you didn't really care. All that mattered was that you were finally eating food after starvation for over a week.

Once Marco got a more attentive look at you, he realized that apart from being drenched, your clothes were torn, shoes were covered in mud and overall, you were covered in dirt and dried blood. He also found that your neck was ever-so-slightly bruised, however hardly noticeable. It made him uneasy.

He asked about it. "What're those marks on your neck?"

You had completely forgotten about what happened the first day you found out about the Mews. It was like you woke up from a nightmare, just to be in that very nightmare. All you could vaguely remember was that an oddly familiar Mew was suffocating you in your bed, nails digging into your neck as you kicked at it with all might.

"I was almost choked to death by one of them. I think it might've been my mother who was infected... there was a slight resemblance."

The boys watched in horror as you explained the dried scabs and faded bruising on your neck. Sure Ymir and Historia had their own crazy stories, but the fact that you endured all of it on your own, even battled Mews for over a week, had them heavily intrigued.

"That's dark stuff," Jean blurted.

Marco cried. "Jean!"

"Sorry," he muttered.

"It's fine," you sighed. "Thankfully I'm fine."

They nodded and continued watching you eat. When you were finally finished, Jean placed a hand on your shoulder and said,

"Now, for the debriefing."


	2. II: Debriefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean relays all rules and concerns to you.

"Right," you sighed. "What's this debriefing?"

"Ground rules and how we're running things in this apartment," Marco answered. "Things you need to know. We can't risk anything. For all we know, we're the last people left on this island."

Jean added. "And then I can let you shower... also, I'll give you new clothes."

Ah, right. You were disgusting by appearance and you had forgotten about how terrible you smelled. Finally, a shower... but, where'd Jean get clothes?

"The water is still running?" you blurted. "And clothes?"

"[Y/N], Mews kill people, they don't drain hydro systems," Jean teased. He seemed smug, but his attitude wasn't unbearable. "And we're living on top of a theatre. We salvaged some stuff from the costume closet in the basement."

Marco chuckled. "I'll let you do your thing. I'll go join Connie and Sasha."

The dark-haired boy walked off, and Jean took a seat on one of the barstools near the island, you following suit.

He took a deep breath before beginning his lecture. "First and foremost, all windows must be boarded at all times. If a Mew sees us through the window, it's practically game over."

So far, you followed. "How about the doors?"

"Doors always stay guarded, and we've installed many padlocks on the main entrance. Sasha and Connie stole them from a Home Depot because they thought they were playing Minecraft Survival mode. Luckily they came in handy,"

You laughed. "You make them seem like total idiots..."

"They kind of are..." Jean chimed. "But they can be smart if they really want to be."

"You mentioned the doors always stay guarded," you remarked. "How about during the night?"

"Ah, yes. We take "shifts"," he said, using his fingers to mimic quotation marks. "We take turns sleeping, so that someone is always alert in case Mews try to break in. That's why Ymir is sleeping at the moment; her shift is first. So once the rest of us go to bed, she'll stay up. And then it's Marco and I, and then Sasha and Connie. We exchange every five hours."

You frowned. "So Ymir stays all alone?"

"She used to have Historia... but thankfully you're here now, so she'll partner with you."

"...Oh."

You hadn't met her yet, so maybe being partnered with her was a great way to get to know her. What you weren't so flattered about was that your shift was first, and you were already ready to pass out due to exhaustion.

"Moving on," Jean continued. "If you ever get injured to the point where you need something medical, there is a bunch of hospital stuff in the attic, although we aren't too sure about what everything is exactly. None of us are doctors... clearly." Jean hinted at the fact that you were all high school teenagers.

"Fair enough," you nodded.

"Also, always have a weapon within arms reach. The Mews are more dangerous than they seem. We found out that some can mutate and slide through cracks in the doors, so it's imperative that you're always ready for combat."

What the fuck did you just hear?

"They can mutate?"

"It's crazy... we boarded the main door too but we aren't sure how long it'll be until they hear us and try to break in. No where is safe... only safer."

And just when you thought you could finally relax, Jean tells you this to completely unsettle you. At best, you weren't entirely alone.

Jean sighed and continued. "Never leave this apartment unless you want all of us to die. We aren't going to leave this building unless it's absolutely necessary. At least, until we have a game plan,"

"And if we have a shortage of food?"

"Then we'll have no choice. But hopefully we'll have a plan of action by then. We've been trying to contact Marley but we haven't been successful." Jean stated. "Anyway, I think that's enough for now. It's almost time for our shifts to start so wash up quick. There's a bathroom inside the room I met you in, I'll reconvene with you outside for clothing. There's towels in the closet too."

"Right," you nodded, and made your way to the bathroom Jean told you about. You locked the door and heaved a heavy sigh as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection seemed so foreign to you, since you hadn't actually seen it since before the fucking apocalypse. Your hair looked rough, extremely unpresentable and visibly oily. A wave of embarrassment flushed through your body as you realized that Marco and Jean had seen you in this condition, but then again, what alternative did you have?

You began undressing, taking off clothing that you never wanted to see again in your life, drenched in fluids that you couldn't begin to name. Finally once you were done self-loathing, you stepped into the shower, letting yourself indulge in the warmth that the water produced. Chills were sent down your neck as you adjusted to the temperature of the steamy shower. You tried not to take too longseeing that there was still a threat outside of the bathroom, and quickly finished washing dirt and mud off your body with the soaps of the family that abandoned the apartment. Sure, you had no idea who had previously used these shampoos and the idea seemed a little gross, but you constantly reminded yourself that this was your new normal, and that this was better than hiding behind ticket booths, shivering in the rain.

You wrapped a towel around your body and stepped out of the shower, slowly opening the door and peering out to see if Jean was there. He was sitting on the bed, and seemed to be studying a map of a sort. There was also a pile of clothes next to him, scissors and a roll of duct tape.

"Psst, Jean," you whispered, grabbing his attention.

His head shot up at the noise and he instantly put the map down and began explaining the clothing.

"This is the best I can do for you," he said. "Boot-cut jeans, these kind-of ugly combat boots and a tight-fitted long sleeve top. If you get cold I guess you can use blankets."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Socks and underwear? Please don't tell me I have to wear the same ones I've been wearing for a week..."

Jean kisses his teeth and let out a defeated groan. "Historia had some clothes from her home so I stole some of her... undergarments. Just don't tell Ymir?"

It was a bit of a shock, Jean telling you that you'd have to wear the underwear of Ymir's deceased girlfriend, but again, you had no other option.

"It'll do. Thank you, Jean."

With a nod he left you alone in the room, and you promptly changed and dried off your hair. But Jean forgot the scissors and duct tape in the room without explaining their purpose, so you took them with you once you exited.

You found Jean sitting on the stairs to the attic near the main entrance, still analyzing whatever atlas he held in his hands.

"What were these for?" you asked Jean.

He ran his hands through this hair and took them from you, beginning to unravel the tape. "Could you go get paper towels from the kitchen?"

You did so and arrived back, towels requested in hand.

"Put your arm out and roll up your sleeves," Jean muttered, busy tearing apart the paper towels. You did as instructed, and he placed the paper towel around your forearm. Later taking a long piece of the heavy-duty duct tape he was handling earlier and began wrapping it around your arms. You simply watched him in confusion, assuming that he would explain what he was doing sooner or later.

"We've all duct taped our arms and legs," he stated, continuing his task. "It's thick and hard to tear into, so in case a Mew tries to bite into us, it'll be difficult for them — other arm please."

"Smart," you agreed, putting out your right arm.

"The paper towel is so that the duct tape doesn't rip any of your skin after we tear it off. Also less painful. Marco said we could just tape it over clothing, but I was against that. These clothes are ugly enough, we don't want to look like the Tin Man."

You giggled at his snarky comparison, and nodded in agreement. Jean wasn't wearing anything better than you; it seemed he was wearing something similar to Flynn Rider's costume in Tangled.

"We still take showers, so redo this duct-taping every time. Don't worry about wasting the tape though; we have a shitload courtesy of Connie and Sasha's Home Depot haul." Jean grunted.

He finished wrapping the tape around both your forearms and continued to your legs, and quickly got that out of the way. The duct tape only felt like thicker skin, and nothing was restraining your joint movement.

You heard the sound of slow footsteps behind you and rapidly looked over your shoulder, still on edge about what Jean told you regarding the Mews. Thankfully it was only Marco, earning a sigh of relief from you.

"We're heading to sleep. Ymir is finally up, maybe you could introduce [Y/N]?" the freckled boy suggested.

Jean nodded and gestured you to follow him. He led you to the kitchen, where a tall woman with short, brown hair was rummaging through the cabinets. She gave you a side eye before continuing her hunt.

"Hey," she muttered. "Who's this?"

"[Y/N]," Jean revealed. "She's with us now. She'll be your partner during the night shifts."

The woman finally looked away from the cabinets overhead and eyed you. She sighed, walked towards you and let out a hand. "Ymir."

"I've heard," you took her hand and shook it. "I hope we can get along."


	3. III: Frigid Air

The atmosphere was dark, minus the television in front of you and a dim light coming from the corridor where Ymir sat next to the main entrance. There hadn't been much conversation between the two of you since Jean headed to sleep, but at least it wasn't awkward. You were both minding your own business, you watching Netflix (courtesy of the anonymous family) and Ymir building/repairing something (you actually had no clue what she was doing, but whatever it was, it was noisy). Miraculously there was still working WiFi in the apartment that Marco had retrieved access to, but you supposed it wouldn't be long before the Mews destroyed all service providers and electricity sources.

Eventually the noise of Ymir's hammering and drilling came to an end, and there was a brief ringing in your ears before they finally acquired some peace. Her shadow crept up to the living area, where the silhouette of her figure against the light came into sight. She leaned onto the wall next to the TV, continuously tapping a bat of a sort in her hand.

"Do you have any weapons?" she asked you quietly.

You raised an eyebrow at the concoction she held in her hand. "No..."

"Didn't Jean tell you to keep a weapon nearby at all times?" She snickered.

"No one even told me where they were. And if I'm to be honest, I completely forgot. I'm about to fall asleep."

Ymir hummed, and took several steps towards you until she was towering over your body. She looked like a psychopath with the bat in her hand.

"This," she began with a devilish grin. "Is my latest invention. Found some beat-up hockey skates in the attic, took off the blades and drilled them onto a metal baseball bat. Neat, huh?"

At this point you were coming to the conclusion that this was either her way of grieving or she was just plain batshit crazy. You kept a confused yet terrified stare on her glowing face.

"How did you even think of this?"

She laughed. "Connie's the brawler, Sasha's the hoarder, Marco's the brains and Jean's the leader. What does that leave me with?"

"What?"

"The weapons specialist," she declared, tossing you the extremely unsafe bat that you tried dodging.

"So does everyone have an assigned role or something?" you questioned.

"Nope. I just made it up in my head. I've been spending a lot of time alone... my mind wanders."

You hummed and nodded, gazing at the bladed baseball bat Ymir had given you.

"Made it for you," she stated.

She pivoted on her foot and made her way back to the corridor. You inspected the weapon in your arms, and began wondering how insane the other's weapons were. Nevertheless, you were thankful for the time and thought Ymir put into making you a weapon, even though you had only known her for less than seven hours.

Taking the concoction with you, you headed to the bright corridor where Ymir sat and joined her. The bat dropped with a clank as you slid down the wall and crossed your legs. She watched as you took your seat, and noticed the scabs and marks on your neck.

"Whoa," she blurted. "So you're into that sort of thing huh,"

You shot her a glare and rolled your eyes. "No! No... that's not what this is."

"I know. I'm just teasing you," Ymir huffed, leaning her head back, onto the wall. "You're really brave for being out there alone for this long."

You didn't respond and kept your eyes glued to the door on Ymir's left, which had around ten different types of keyless locks unprofessionally and crookedly installed. The crack on the bottom was also boarded like the windows. Only then were you able to analyze the severity of the situation and realize how grave it was, how unlikely the chances of escaping Paradis were. Your heart began racing.

A deafening silence had engulfed the apartment — you could hear a pin drop from a faraway room. The dry, heavy air suddenly became fridgid, and goosebumps began rising on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. The wind outside made the atmosphere eerie.

"I don't know how I did it," you spoke tremulously. "I can't understand..."

"It was the adrenaline high, I'm sure," Ymir suggested.

"Maybe. Because now I feel even more terrified than I did when I used to sleep outside in the alleyways, even though I'm somewhat safer..."

Ymir noticed how brittle your voice was, and that you had brought your legs up to your chest, most likely for warmth. She stood up and headed to the bedroom, quickly coming back with a blanket, throwing it over your head

"Wrap it around yourself. You might feel better."

You did as recommended by the girl and became slightly less frightened, however the possibility of the lurking threat outside finding you was still unsettling. While your eyes remained glued to the door, another wooden bat against the wall caught your attention from the corner of your eye.

"Is that yours?" you muttered to Ymir.

"Yep, this ones mine," she stifled a chuckle, reaching for the bat to her left. The barrel of her wooden baseball bat was littered in dozens of sharp nails, blades and screws, resembling a porcupine. You guessed she had either discovered a few in the attic or that Connie and Sasha happened to steal a box of nails and screws from the hardware store they raided.

you clicked your tongue. "Does everyone have their own customized bat?"

"No, but we all have a melee weapon... only Jean has a gun," she explained. "He has a crowbar for physical."

"So ideally, everyone should have one long-range and one melee?"

"Not necessarily long-range, but at least something that doesn't require a direct physical hit. But like I said, Jean's the only one who has that luxury right now."

"What do the rest use?"

Ymir sighed and dropped her bat. "Would you believe me if I told you Sasha's weapon-of-choice was a cast-iron?"

You couldn't help but laugh. "Come again?"

"She thinks she's Rapunzel or some shit," Ymir smiled at the thought. "But hey, if it works, it works."

"Funny," you sighed. Your gaze returned to the bat Ymir made for you and admired it. Despite how dismal your state was, you couldn't help but ponder about how this was something that not everyone gets to experience. A zombie apocalypse, for fucks sake. You were practically in the Walking Dead.

There was a flicker of light coming from the kitchen, and soon after the silhouette of Marco came into sight.

"I guess you can finally head to sleep," Ymir told you. "Marco and Jean have their shift now."

A yawn slipped past your lips, and you gave yourself a long stretch as you stood up. "Thank goodness."

Dragging the bat along with you, you sluggishly walked towards the couch you previously sat in and plopped onto it, resting your head on an armrest and almost immediately drifting into a long-awaited Mew-free rest, dropping the weapon in-hand on the ground.

As Ymir walked past, she chuckled at the baseball bat grazing your fingertips, and looked forward to speaking to you again in the morning.


	4. IV: In Shambles

The sound of waves on the beach and seagulls chirping was distantly heard. Had you escaped Paradis? Was this Marley? The fuzzy sky was a bright blue with not a single cloud in sight, the feeling of warm sand in between your toes soothing them, putting your whole body at ease...

...And then you were awoken from your serene dream by the sound of banging and yelling, jolting up at the boisterous noise coming from the living room. You looked around and noticed that you were, in fact, no longer on the couch where you fell asleep in, but now in a sleeping bag on the ground — actually, in the loft above the kitchen. You looked around and noticed a desk in the far left corner, and more sleeping bags spread across the floor, along with extra blankets scattered over, and many backpacks lined up against the walls. There seemed to be commotion on the main level, and you began making your way out of the sleeping bag to explore. However a warm, firm hand gripped your shoulder and pulled you back down.

"Shh," the feminine voice said. "Stay here. Let them handle it. If more people gather in the hall, our scent will become stronger."

Looking over, you noticed a girl with her hair messily tied in a ponytail was the owner of the hand on your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly taking Sasha's advice and deciding to listen in on the yelling instead of engaging.

At the main entrance, Marco, Jean and Ymir were currently trying to kill off two intruding Mews, one of which was the mutant type. Marco had sliced through the mutant with an old, rusty axe, and it's remains and blood had been spilled all over the corridor, meanwhile Jean and Ymir had their backs against the door, trying to keep it shut with all their might.

"Jean, where's the gun?" Ymir heaved, strain seen in her face as she continued forcing her back onto the door.

"In my back pocket. Take it and shoot the Mew. Fast!" Jean commanded.

With swift movements, Ymir took the pistol in her hands as the door flew open, and pointed the gun at the head of the Mew. She made eye contact with it, and felt a sudden rush of hesitation as her finger trembled over the trigger once she noticed the incoming Mew had dirty, blond hair.

"The fuck are you waiting for? Shoot the damn thing!" Jean shouted in her ear, yet she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Her hands began quivering as the Mew came closer by the millisecond, and she could smell the monster's breath as it reached for her face. Still, she couldn't build up the courage to shoot it... until Jean laced his fingers through Ymir's and pushed down on the trigger for her, sending a bullet flying into the center of the Mew's forehead. It tumbled down the stairs of the building after getting shot, and Jean slammed the door closed, beginning to make quick work of the locks and padlocks attached. Marco was rapid in beginning to hammer a wooden board to the door once again, while Ymir simply gandered at the gun in her hands and hiccupped, baffled at the fact that she couldn't kill the threat.

"Since when did you become so soft, huh?" Jean chastised, snatching the gun out of Ymir's hands and lifting her chin up with his middle finger, forcing her to make eye contact with him. He was far from pleased, his eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, serving Ymir a dirty look.

She scowled and pushed herself away from the copper-haired boy before turning around to hear another one of his insults.

"I swear a week ago you thought you were an entity!" he fumed. "What the hell was that? Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Shut up, Jean! Just shut up!" Ymir yelled. "You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I'm going through right now!"

"That Mew wasn't your girlfriend, so why does it matter?" he continued to argue.

"It matters because it reminded me of her, dammit! All you do is dump salt on my open wound. Try empathy for a change, bastard!"

Ymir's voice roared throughout the apartment, and you couldn't help but be in awe of the pain that she continuously hid so well.

"They argue often," Sasha stated, propped on her elbow. "Jean can be pretty domineering."

You nodded. "Yeah, I see that. But I can't help but feel for Ymir..."

Another body popped up from behind Sasha, this time a male with buzzed hair and sharp honey-coloured eyes. You recognized him as Connie.

"Sasha, stop hogging all the blankets!" Connie whined, stripping every blanket off of Sasha's back.

"Hey!" she squealed, tugging back on her blankets and resting them on top of her.

Ignoring the duo, you thought aloud, "Should we go interfere?"

"Nah," Connie spat. "Let 'em duke it out themselves... Sasha, give it back!"

You stared at the duo in confusion, eyebrows cocked. They fought like a married middle-aged couple, and you couldn't help but bring yourself to ask, "Are you two dating or something?"

Sasha and Connie immediately stopped their bickering and blinked before waving their arms around, trying to convince you otherwise.

"No, we're not dating," Sasha began.

"Why would I wanna date this idiot?" Connie scoffed playfully, crossing his arms and looking away with a growing grin.

"If you're calling me an idiot then what does that make you? Idiot!" Sasha barked back, slapping the back of Connie's head.

"Guys, stop! I'm trying to listen!" you whisper-yelled, reverting your attention back to eavesdropping on the conversation between Jean and Ymir. Marco seemed to have stepped in.

"Jean, calm down! We're fine, now stop making so much noise unless you want another bombardment!" he voiced sternly.

Jean growled. "Yeah? And what if there is another bombardment? I'm not always gonna be there to step in for her. Ymir needs to carry her weight!"

"Who gives a shit anyway? Do you really think we're gonna survive? We're all gonna die regardless!" Ymir cried, her voice cracking and brittle. You heard a sob followed by a sniffle, and then stomping that faded within a minute.

You turned your head to meet Sasha's eyes, but she seemed to be in her own head about the situation; it probably reminded her of the Historia girl too. Connie also seemed to be unwell... what Ymir said had much truth. You sighed and threw your covers off, hopping to your feet.

"Where are you going?" Sasha asked.

"I'm gonna see if Ymir is alright," you muttered, patting your hair down, ridding it of any frizz or strays.

Connie scoffed, "Good luck getting a word out of her."

The sound of a crash coming from overhead echoed through the apartment. After shooting the duo one last look of worry, you began making your way down the steps and into the kitchen. As you walked past the living room, you saw Jean slouching on an armchair with his face buried in his palms, and Marco pacing back and forth, running shaky hands through his hair. Either they were still on edge about the Mews or stressing... or better yet, both. Over your shoulder, you saw a puddle of dark blood on the floor in the corridor, and more splattered on the walls. Your eyes grew in horror at the sight of the deceased Mew's body limp on the ground, accompanied by a severed hand and an axe lodged into its head. There was another sound from the attic, but this time it sounded like a thud.

You shook the disturbing image out of your head, and continued your search for Ymir, although she was nowhere to be found. The only place you hadn't checked was the attic — also the only place in the apartment you haven't been in yet. So you began making your way up the creaky wooden stairs, in hopes of finding the freckled girl.

When you formally met Ymir for the first time the previous day, you couldn't help but notice how confidently she carried herself. There wasn't any particular feature she had that stood out to you, yet there was something in her mannerisms that you found uniquely enticing. Or maybe it was the fact that she was wearing a men's muscle tank with camouflage pants and beat-up Doc Martens... nevertheless she was charming.

But she didn't occur to you as the type of person who would lash out without reason, or hide in an attic and cry, so naturally you became concerned.

The soft sobbing and hiccupping got louder as you walked into the dimly-lit attic. You scanned the room to find Ymir leaning over a desk, hands clenched over the corners and heavily breathing.

"You okay?"

She shook her head and looked away, roughly wiping the tears from her cheeks when she noticed it was you. "Leave."

You ignored her request and continued searching the room, taking slow steps as you examined the mess on the floor; papers, cracked memorabilia and shattered glass were dispersed all over the hardwood, and there was a fallen bookshelf, which explained the noise you heard earlier. A brown duffel-bag in a corner with some transparent, thin tubes pouring out caught your attention, and you decided to do further research on the contents inside.

The closer you got, the clearer it became that the bag was filled to the brim with smuggled miscellaneous medical supplies. You squatted in front of the bag and delved into it.

Ymir fixated the corner of her eyes on you, watching as you bent over. A flush of heat crept up to her ears when she was found unconsciously looking at your ass, and rolled her eyes and cursed at herself for checking you out. She was still hung up on Historia, the last thing she needed was another girl to obsess over, especially when the odds of death were still high.

"Oh, give me a fucking break," she growled, accompanied by the sound of papers flying to the ground, along with the sound of something shattering — a material similar to porcelain. Ymir was trying hard to keep her vexations in-tact, but the only thing that brought her the slightest relief was destruction. You wouldn't dare look at her while she threw her tantrum, because you figured she was embarrassed enough. Lastly she violently pushed the desk against the wall, leaving an indent before sliding down a perpendicular wall, bringing her legs to her chest. After Ymir had calmed down, you resumed your search in the duffel bag.

In the bag you rummaged through, you were discovering bottles of pills and liquids, needles, surgical equipment and attached to the tubes... sacks of blood.

"Why the fuck do you guys have blood in here?" you grimaced, pulling your hand out of the bag and gagging.

"What? I don't know," Ymir clicked her tongue. "Ask Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb downstairs. They packed the bag."

You found it interesting that the group was always calling Sasha and Connie a pair of halfwits, even though they were constantly the ones entrusted with inventory-related tasks. You chuckled, holding up one of the sacks. "Unless they know how to perform transfusions, these are basically useless... or maybe they're secretly vampires..."

You looked over your shoulders with a smile, winking at the unamused girl across the room — she had a tendency for eye-rolling. Once you turned back to the duffel bag, Ymir's eyes found their way back to you. She watched you curiously while you muttered the contents of the bag.

"Forceps, syringes, retractors... scalpels? I sure hope we don't have to use these..."

She groaned, "Why are you here?"

It was clear in her voice that she was pissed off, but you were unsure whether she was pissed off at the rustling noise you were making or if it was her bottled-up anger from arguing with Jean. You dropped all the utensils back into the bag with a clank and stood up.

"Because no one's checking up on you, so I'm here to do that."

She scowled and kissed her teeth, stifling a cynical chuckle, but when she looked at you again, she realized you were dead serious. Ymir sighed in defeat and dropped her legs, patting on the floor next to her.

"You want to know? Fine, I'll tell you."


	5. V: Historia

Ymir shot you a defeated look. Her eyes were reddened and slightly puffy, and her slender hand lay flat on the damaged hardwood floor next to her, welcoming you to take a seat.

You took a deep breath as you slid down the wall next to her, and stared up at the cobweb-filled ceiling before leaning your head back on the wall behind you. You felt Ymir shuffling around and looked over, noticing her hand deep in her pocket, searching for something. She pulled out a cigarette box — to your astonishment — and took out a lighter and cigarette before holding the box out to you, offering you a smoke. You kindly declined and watched her light the cig between her full lips.

"You smoke?" you inquired.

The freckled woman took a puff before heavily exhaling, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes met yours lazily as she held out the cigarette between her fingers.

"Just started. I heard they're good for stress," she explained, "It's partially true. Here, try."

You hesitantly took the cigarette from Ymir's fingers and inhaled some smoke. The smoke itched your throat, causing you to cough, and you grimaced at the flavour while handing it back to Ymir. It was unpleasant, and tasted like household chemicals to you, but something about holding the cigarette soothed you.

"Where did you even get these?" you scoffed. "There's no way they sell these to seventeen year-olds."

Ymir laughed. "Stole a box from Historia's father when we — wait, right. You don't know who Historia is."

You did.

"I guess that's why I asked you to sit down in the first place," she mumbled.

She looked away and stared into space as she brought the cigarette back between her lips, with you still keeping your vision glued to her face.

"Historia was my girlfriend," she sighed. Ymir seemed to be choking on her words, like they weren't easily spoken. "She gave me a home when I couldn't afford my own, helped me in school when I was failing... she saved my life. And I loved her... a damn ton."

You hung your head and watched your finger trace circles on the ground. "What happened?"

She kissed her teeth and scoffed. "You can probably guess."

"Right, I can. Don't mind me asking but... how exactly?"

Ymir heaved another sigh. "She wasn't immune like Jean, Marco and I, but we thought she was since we had come into contact with the virus a couple of times before coming here. Last week we left the apartment for medical supplies at the nearby hospital. Doors were automatic, so we figured there'd be Mews inside the building, and we made sure we were cautious until we got to a supply room. Much to our luck, as soon as we actually reached the room, we found Mews... so obviously we had to kill them. Because we weren't sure if Connie and Sasha were immune or not, Historia, Jean, Marco and I took it upon ourselves to fight while Connie and Sasha gathered whatever they could salvage,"

You cut Ymir off. "So you found Historia wasn't immune the hard way,"

"I guess. She showed me some blue, vein-looking mark's on her back and neck after she showered when we got back, but I kept it a secret because I doubted she'd turn that quickly. When I woke up before our shift I heard yelling from the living room and rushed to see what was happening. I saw Historia surrounded and Jean was pointing a gun at her face. I pushed him out of the way, but when I turned to Historia..."

Ymir paused abruptly. She froze in her place, staring at the wall ahead with a dark shadow casted over her umber eyes. Her lips had begun to quiver and her eyes twitched in horror as she recalled passed events.

"... it didn't even look like her. When I looked into her eyes I knew she was gone for good. It looked like her skin was rotting, she was drooling and growling like an animal. I can't really sugar coat this either... it was horrifying."

Ymir's voice gradually became fragile and softer the more she went on. You jerked your head to the side when you heard a sniffle, and saw her lightly pressing on her water-ducts to prevent tears from escaping. She shook her head and whispered. "I argued with Jean, trying to convince him not to kill her, but he did anyway,"

What could Jean do? You probably would've done the same, but you empathized with Ymir, seeing that the same thing had happened with your entire family. Unfortunately you weren't even able to detect the virus beforehand like Ymir had.

She let out a forced, painful laugh. "That's not even the worst part."

You gasped. "What?"

"We couldn't keep her body inside the apartment because she'd start to smell and attract bugs, so the second best option was to dispose of her body..."

The more you listened, the more you became overwhelmed with disbelief. To put it plainly, the high-school teenagers that you were living with had already undergone things that could inflict serious trauma, like deal with a dead body, however they were still borderline optimistic and at the very least, sane. You had also gone through quite a lot, but your brain had yet to process the fact that you were technically a murderer, too.

Ymir shakily sighed. "Jean, Connie and Marco dealt with the dirty work because I didn't have it in me to watch the rest... but all I know is that she doesn't have a grave, she's probably getting torn apart by raccoons right now and... god, she's probably in the fucking dumpsters outside,"

At this point, both you and Ymir were too uncomfortable to engage any further into the conversation. You held your head in your palm as you brought your legs to you chest. You couldn't even begin to envision the images Ymir was describing — it was all too much.

There was a mutual silence between you for the next couple minutes. Ymir finished her cigarette and took it out with the condensation from the window above you, and finally relaxed after the difficult conversation she just had. You were trying to find a way to comfort her, however you figured the last thing she wanted was physical affection.

You snickered, and spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. "At least she didn't try killing you... unlike my entire family."

"Haha, you're right," Ymir smiled.

You felt her eyes on you and attended to it, accidentally trapping yourself in her gaze. You felt like you were able to connect with Ymir, not only because of your past struggles, but also because of how alike you were personality-wise. It was easy to understand how to deal with one another.

"I doubt you like being seen this vulnerable around people, so don't worry... I'll keep this a secret," you whispered and winked with a sincere smile.

Ymir chuckled. "Great. Thank you."

You beheld one another for several seconds before tearing yourself from her, eyes wandering back onto the duffel bag across the room. You began thinking about what Ymir had told you the previous night during your shift, about how she had assigned roles for everyone in her imagination. You weren't a nurse, but binging Grey's Anatomy for seven seasons did you the slightest bit of justice when it came to learning about the medical basics. The thought of being the group's medic crossed your mind.

You figured; why not take it to the next step?


	6. VI: The Medic

"Ymir..."

"Hmm?"

"You know how you're always talking about everyone having roles in your imagination? Like you being the 'weapons specialist' or whatever?" you mused, "What if I had a role?

"What role do you have in mind?"

You averted your gaze back onto the bag of smuggled medical gear. You jerked your chin towards it. "I can try putting that stuff to use."

Ymir gave a thoughtful stare at the duffle, and slowly pushed herself off the ground and onto her feet. You watched as she made her way to the bag, your eyes unconsciously tracing her hips and stopping once they landed on her behind, but you blinked and looked away once you caught yourself staring.

She crouched and began digging through the bag, and you chuckled as you heard a gag come from her while she tossed the sack of blood to the side. You shook your head in disbelief; where did Sasha and Connie even find that? You made your way to Ymir's side and joined her.

"What do you even know about being a doctor?" She asked.

"Well... nothing besides cleaning knee scrapes," you admitted, "However I think I'm comfortable with staring gruesome wounds in the eye."

She pondered the idea while eyeing you in her peripherals. You reciprocated the action with a cocked eyebrow, and she finally made eye contact with you after emitting a sigh.

"Say, hypothetically, I get shot and the bullet doesn't hit a vital. Do we take it out or keep it in?"

Your eyebrow twitched as you kept your vision glued onto Ymir in confusion. How were you supposed to know that? Regardless, you thought carefully about your response and answered confidently to appease Ymir.

"You keep it in."

She stood frozen in the same position she sat in previously, staring blankly at the duffle. You took her body language as a hint, relaying the message that your answer was incorrect. As your confidence diminished, you began to slouch.

Softly, you whimpered, "That's the answer... right?"

"How the hell should I know?" Ymir spat. "But it sounds like a smart answer... so I'll pretend like you know what you're doing."

You tisked and let out a laugh at her reply. The corners of her lips warped into a smile.

"I've wondered," you began, "What did Connie do to gain the 'Brawler' role?"

Ymir scoffed with a smirk, and looked you in the eye. Strands of hair fell over her face as she tilted her head.

"He's the only one crazy enough to actually touch one of those things."

You gaped, "You're joking..."

"Not in the slightest," she sighed, "He almost punched a Mew, but Sasha held him back before he could get too close to it."

"Wow,"

There was a brief silence between you and Ymir, and distant chatter coming from the main floor echoed into the attic. The moment gave you a feeling of déjà vu; of the countless times you'd ditch the main scene of a party to hang out with your friends in a quiet, secluded room. Simple things like that you took for granted were now a luxury, but you were glad you stumbled upon the group you had.

You shifted your weight into your hands behind you and sat on the floor, curling your knees up to your chest. Your sight found its way back onto Ymir's face, but your lips warped into a frown once you noticed a dark shadow cast over her eyes. She pulled a roll of bandages out of the duffle and began wrapping the gauze around her hand, fidgeting with it as she appeared to be deep in thought; you wondered if she was thinking about Historia. Your hand wrapped around your neck as you sat up.

She shook her head as she forced herself out of thought, and hummed, "Do you know how to tie a tourniquet?"

Your heart sunk into your stomach when you heard her question, and you felt your confidence wither further. Truth was, you didn't even know what a tourniquet was used for... or what it was, for that matter.

"No..."

"I'll teach you, then," Ymir affirmed, "It could be useful... hopefully we won't need to use any though."

She dropped the unraveled cotton gauze back into the bag and began fretting as she rummaged through it, only to pull out a strip of thick, blue rubber.

"Thank god," she murmured under her breath, relaxed as she exhaled a sigh of relief. She turned to you, calm and collected. "You've gotten blood drawn before, right?"

You nodded in response.

"Y'know how they wrap those bands around your arm before they put the needle in? It's—"

"To stop the blood flow? So we'd use the tourniquet to stop blood if anything were to happen to us..." you cut Ymir off.

"Exactly," she finalized. She spun around to face you and crossed her legs, holding out her left hand towards your left arm. "Let me show you."

Obediently, you stretched out your left arm for Ymir to demonstrate. She leaned in closer to you as she began tying the blue rubber above your elbow. You watched her as she worked swiftly, and although she was only close for a split second, you'd already analyzed her mannerisms; like how she wrapped the tip of her tongue around the corner of her upper lip and scrunched her eyebrows when she was focused. Frankly, you thought it was adorable.

"That's how you tie it," she sighed, still holding onto the end with her fingertips. "When you tie it, make a loop so you can just pull it to undo it,"

She tugged on the rubber and it snapped off in a flash. "Just like that."

"Let me try it," you muttered. Ymir dropped the band in your palm and held out her right arm as you shifted onto your knees. You began tying the rubber above her elbow and mirrored what she demonstrated on you, but you felt a pair of eyes on you the entire time. You slowly tilted your head to lock eyes with Ymir, and beheld her for minutes. Her eyes were dark below the eyelid and seemed heavy, but her irises glimmered in the streaks of sunlight illuminating the room.

"Ymir! [Y/N]!" A voice called from below the stairs. You snapped out of your moment and untied the tourniquet, throwing the rubber band back into the duffle bag.

"What is it, Connie?" Ymir shouted at the top of her lungs in a slightly-pissed-off tone.

"We found more food! Get down here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! My apologies for keeping you all waiting :( hopefully I will be updating weekly from now on!


	7. VII: Lady and the Tramp

You rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen, Ymir following suit. Connie and Sasha were crouching under the kitchen island, emptying out a hidden cabinet of snacks and what seemed like stuff you'd find at a dinner-party. There were bags of tortilla chips and unopened dips, crates of tonic water and pop, plastic plates and cutlery, and above all, beers and alcoholic beverages. Aside from snacks, there were also two packages of pita bread inside the cabinet.

"Oh my gosh," you muttered under your breath, in awe of all the food that the pair had found. Jean and Marco were already downing a can of beer each, enjoying the liberty of not having any guardians to tell them otherwise.

Next to the cabinet that Connie was searching, you noticed that there was an indent about 15 inches away from it, and wondered if there was another cupboard you had yet to discover. You knelt down and placed your hand under the second cabinet and opened it with a bit of an extra pull. The compartment released cold air upon opening, and with a signature white interior, you had no doubt that it was a mini fridge. Your eyes shone a glimmer of hope at the sight of half a carton of eggs, a carton of milk, sparkling water and bottled water.

"There's more!" Connie chirped, averting his attention to the newly-discovered fridge.

"So this means we'll be good for a while longer," Ymir sighed, relief apparent in her tone.

"We'll have to ration though," you added. "If we plan to leave, we should make sure we have some food for the road in case we can't get into any nearby grocery stores."

"The road?" Sasha blurted as she slowly stood up. "How far are we going? Are we planning on hijacking a car?"

"That... is actually the smartest idea you've had all week, Sasha," Jean intervened, putting his beer down on the countertop with a loud clank. "Do we still have internet?"

Marco fished out his phone from his pocket and searched the top left corner of his screen for the Wi-Fi symbol, nodding as he spoke. "Thankfully, yeah,"

Jean turned to his left and walked towards one of the boarded windows, taking the wooden planks down one by one as he unveiled the window. The sunlight was incredibly bright on everyone's eyes considering you've been locked in an apartment with no outdoor exposure for quite some time. Jean sharply turned away from the sunlight, and slowly brought his palm up to his eyes to shade them from the streams of light. As he peered through the window once more, he scavenged the street below for cars, preferably smart cars which would likely be equipped with start/stop technology. About 100 meters away he caught sight of a Jeep that he hoped to be the latest model of the Wrangler. The other cars on the street were outdated, four-seater cars and trucks that had no way of being accessed, so Jean gambled with the idea that the Jeep had a start/stop function rather than key-in ignition.

He boarded the window back up before making his way back to the island counter, and placed a hand on Marco's shoulder. "We'll start doing some research on cars and try learning how to drive one virtually. It would be a good asset to our escape."

The two boys walked off into the living room, leaving you, Ymir, Connie and Sasha to deal with the food. Connie let out an elongated groan as he stood up, and stretched out his back after being in a squat for so long. You closed the cabinet and fridge doors and rose to your feet, placing your hands on your waist while letting out a content sigh. The sight of functional food sent a flush of temporary relief throughout your body, and you were able to physically feel your tense body relax. Your eyes scavenged the countertop of food, only to see Sasha already indulging in chips and salsa on the other side of the kitchen.

"This is not going to fly," you told her while reaching across Connie to snatch the bag of chips from her hand. "We don't have enough food to snack on leisurely. This is all we have until we get to a grocery store."

"Well I'm hungry!" Sasha whined, pouting her lip while defeatedly screwing the lid back onto the container of salsa.

Beside you, you could hear Ymir counting under her breath and doing some math. You and the three others in the kitchen stood in silence for a few minutes before Connie and Sasha became impatient and decided to leave and play Super Smash Bros. again. That left you and Ymir in charge of figuring out the rations and dealing with the food.

"Three bags of tortilla chips, two dips, two things of pita..." Ymir recited aloud, pointing to each item as she counted. "A 6-pack of tonic water — ew — a bottle of sparkling water, A.K.A. TV static... eggs, milk... and one more box of instant ramen from downstairs. This'll be fine... for three days."

You sighed. "It's still better than how much we had yesterday... let's pack it up for now."

"Right,"

You rolled up the chip package that Sasha had already torn open and scavenged the kitchen drawers for clips to preserve the food. You began putting all the food back where you found it, except for the milk and eggs, which Ymir placed into the main fridge.

By the way Ymir was acting, you could tell that something was on her mind, however you couldn't place your finger on it. She seemed like she wasn't mentally present, even a little confused... and she kept glancing at you. You felt her eyes on you and turned your head to meet them, but she didn't hesitate to look away immediately after you caught her red-handed. It was making the tension between you awkward.

She broke the silence with the sound of the fridge shutting, and asked quietly, "Have you eaten today?"

"No," you replied. "Got carried away. I can hold off though,"

"You need to eat," she stated sternly, taking steps towards the overhead cabinet that had instant ramen neatly stacked inside. "Would you like to share noodles with me? I know you had some yesterday but... you know,"

Truth was, you didn't want to eat mainly out of selflessness and worry that there wouldn't be enough food for everyone else, even though you had plenty at that moment. Eating made you feel guilty, especially when you had just spoken to Sasha about rationing, but you supposed sharing a bowl with Ymir wouldn't cause any harm. You hesitantly nodded.

"Sure, we can share."

A couple of moments later, Ymir took the cup of ramen out of the microwave and took out two forks from a drawer, handing one to you as she made her way to the counter.

"I won't ever want to see another Cup-O-Noodles in my life if we get out of here," Ymir noted, stirring the ramen in the bowl to cool it down.

You chuckled, "I wouldn't blame you. It's all you've had to eat for weeks,"

"I mean, it's not that awful," she continued. "It's just pretty unhealthy..."

The both of you ate in silence unconsciously, just enjoying whatever food you had. You were feeding your hunger which hadn't fully been satisfied yesterday, especially since you hadn't eaten for a full week prior to then. You figured it would take a while for your body to fully recuperate from the experience.

You suddenly noticed the minimal conversation between you and Ymir. You rested your spare elbow on the counter and held your face in your palm as you paused to watch Ymir messily slurp on a single noodle.

"You know what this reminds me of?" you blurted, earning her attention.

Ymir swallowed her food and smirked. "What?"

You took a deep breath before replying. "Lady and the Tramp."

The brunette chuckled and looked away, beginning to fidget with the fork in her hand. Her cheeks slowly flushed into a pale pink colour. She returned to her food and stuffed another forkful of ramen into her mouth. She wasn't the type to bunch the noodles around her fork, rather she liked to slurp the remaining strands. There was another single piece hanging loose from her lips, and you bit your lips and cursed at yourself for what you were about to do.

You leaning forward, wrapping the other end of the noodle around your tongue and taking it into your mouth, leaving Ymir dumbfounded at the act. But once she collected herself again, her lips curved into her signature smirk and she took one bite closer to your face, earning a smug grin from you. Neither of you were fazed at the fact that your faces were breaths apart, if only for that single noodle that kept you connected. You leaned onto both your elbows and inched forward.

"See?" you mumbled through your teeth.

Ymir chuckled and took one last bite forward before tearing her half of the noodle away from yours, moving back into her spot. The moment was more playful rather than romantic, but regardless of the fact that she was in mourning, you sensed an undeniable tension between you. Or maybe it was unrequited and your brain was just falling in too deep and making this up, but whatever it was, it was comforting in the heat of hell.


End file.
